


It Takes a Facsimile of an Amaurotine City to Raise a Child

by VampireFaun



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate ending to Shadowbringers, Emet-Selch has a soft spot for dumb children, Silly shenanigans, Spoilers for everything up to last quest of 5.0, The twins getting on each other's NERVES, amaurotines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24923113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireFaun/pseuds/VampireFaun
Summary: Emet-Selch's new hostages are annoying, these ridiculous Elezen twins. Ridiculous. But while they're here, they could use some less absurd clothes—and some half-decent food—and maybe some better education—and—
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	It Takes a Facsimile of an Amaurotine City to Raise a Child

Humans were fragile. This, Emet-Selch could forgive. It was not precisely their choice, after all—and in any case, some ephemeral things _could_ be pleasant. A flower, for instance. A good mood.

Humanity’s _abhorrent_ taste in fashion, however? Unforgivable _._

Emet-Selch looked down in disgust at the outfits that the twins were wearing as they slumbered—well, all right, laid unconscious—on the couch in the (very tastefully decorated) Amaurotine room. What on earth were all these buckles for? The boy was practically drowning in them. And the colors on the girl’s outfit was hideous, just hideous. Tan and red and _white?_ Emet-Selch scoffed to himself, incredulous. Not that the average Amaurotine had any interest in fashion, of course, but if humans were going to play around with their scraps, could they not at least put some thought into it?

It was in the midst of these ruminations that the twins began to stir. Finally.

“I must say,” Emet-Selch began, unable to help himself, “Your outfits are simply hideous.”

“What? Where…” Alphinaud gasped, and suddenly, he was on guard; his hand flew to where his grimoire had been, and it was—gone? He sat up—

“Emet-Selch!” he burst out.

Alisaie woke more slowly, but soon scrambled up by his side, though she winced and held her head. “Alphinaud! Are you all right?” She glared at Emet-Selch. “Where are we?”

So _very_ predictable. Emet-Selch rolled his eyes. “One question at a time, _please._ ”

Alphinaud hesitated, glancing at his sister. They exchanged a meaningful look, before Alphinaud looked back at him. “Where are our friends?”

“Oh, spare me. Do you want me to give the entire villain’s speech? Ahhh, let me see…” He pointed at them lazily. “Your friends? They’ll _never_ find you…they ran off as soon as they thought me dead, and forgot to ensure that you were keeping pace behind them…and so on, and so forth.”

Alphinaud furrowed his brow. “How did you survive that burst of light?”

Alisaie gritted her teeth and seethed. “So you—you _kidnapped_ us?”

Emet-Selch pinched the bridge of his nose. “I said _one_ question at a time, _please._ ”

“Enough of this!” Alphinaud stood, fiery but earnest. “Please—you’ve explained things fully before. We have listened. Can you not do the same now?”

“Oh, _very_ well, if I must…”

Emet-Selch crossed his arms.

“Your hero tried to pierce me through with that beam. How very intelligent—I must give credit when it is due. Indeed, I must confess that I was not expecting it. Thus it came to be that I had to make a _very_ hasty escape—and what is an escape without hostages? Had I the time, I would have plucked away the hero, of course, but they were oh-so-far away…and you two were ever so _slightly_ slower…”

The twins stared at him for a few moments, like a pair of owls with terrible outfits. Then, Alisaie stood and spoke, bitterly, furiously.

“So we’re your hostages, are we!”

Alphinaud tried to put his hand on her shoulder. “Alisaie—”

“What are you going to do with us, then?” She clenched her fists. “Because if you—”

“Why, _nothing,_ my dear.” Emet-Selch interrupted, waving a hand. “Nothing at all.”

“What?!”

He shrugged. “We are within the city of Amaurot—its facsimile, that is. I have fortified it, hidden it. You will not find an easy escape, and your friends will not find an easy entrance.”

“And then what?”

“And then nothing! My, do you really consider me such a storybook villain? How absolutely offensive.” He put his hand to his chest in mock-distress. “You are free to do as you would like while I negotiate with your friends. Except, of course—”

He snapped his fingers.

“For those outfits.”

There, _much_ better.

The twins, now dressed in the typical Amaurotine robes, looked down at themselves in shock. Alphinaud pulled at the black and somewhat luminous material, confused.

They really did look like Amaurotine children now, Emet-Selch thought to himself—far smaller, of course, but the way they matched was a little amusing. He knew he shouldn’t get attached to these whelps, fragments of true beings that they were, barely anything, barely ants. But perhaps…

“But perhaps you do with a more _fruitful_ education,” he mused.

“Wait!” they both shouted—but with a snap of his fingers, they were gone.

—————

“Ah…students,” the Amaurotine at the front of the class said calmly. “Class has already begun. Please do take your seats.”

The twins, finding themselves seated at the front of a classroom of sorts—an enormous room with a soaring ceiling, almost an auditorium, with desks and the walls delicately accented in gold—scrambled up from their seats and looked around in surprise.

Alphinaud was the first to speak, incredulous. “Is this a _school?_ _”_

“Alphinaud,” Alisaie said urgently, “We have to find a way out. I’ll look for exits—you can try—”

Alphinaud put his hand to his chin. “Wait…”

“Quickly, before he comes back!”

“Emet-Selch is not one to put us here without reason,” Alphinaud mused. “What if this is a puzzle?”

Alisaie gave an exasperated sigh. “Alphinaud, I _know_ you want to believe that everyone is as logical and _measured_ as you are—but this isn’t the time!”

“Think about it!” He turned to her. “He could have kept us unconscious, or in some Amaurotian prison, or—”

“This _is_ a prison!”

Now a slight hint of mischief came into Alphinaud’s voice. “Now, Alisaie, I know that you never liked school, but you ought not let that colour your—”

She strode forward, incensed. “That’s not what I meant!”

“I was only saying—”

“Why, you—!”

She grabbed the long sleeve of his robe, and he tried to tug it away—

“Children,” the Amaurotine teacher called, with disapproval pervading its usual drone. “Children, please…”

—————

Emet-Selch clicked his tongue. “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” he muttered, and turned away from his mirror. It was similar to Graha’s mirror (it was _he_ who had designed that wretched tower, after all), but he could scarcely understand how the Exarch could stand to watch such useless squabbling all day. _These_ were the hero’s famous friends, child prodigies, the heart and mind of the Scions?

Emet-Selch crossed his arms.

They _were_ somewhat entertaining. He’d give them that—credit where it was due, after all.

With a sigh, he turned back to the mirror.

**Author's Note:**

> WHY am I writing this? Who knows??? Why does anyone write anything?????? Should I continue this??????????? Let me know!!


End file.
